


A Burning Thing

by BryroseA



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Finale, Sex Pollen, So definitely some dub con issues because of the tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:13:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BryroseA/pseuds/BryroseA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica, Logan, and a very strange cabin in the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Burning Thing

_Love is a burning thing_  
_And it makes a fiery ring._  
_Bound by wild desire_

“Ring of Fire,” Johnny Cash

* * *

 

 

“Veronica?”

Logan’s shout bounces back to him, the volume dampened by the thick forest of pine trees he’s standing in. Where the fuck did she go? She was walking right in front of him and then he lost her around a clump of trees and now…

 “Veronica?! Where the hell are you? Answer me, or—or I swear to god, I’m going to walk away!”

Logan rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration. He’s not going to leave, of course. There is an approximately zero point zero chance that he would leave Veronica alone in the woods with night rapidly approaching, even if she does want him out of her life forever. But just because she hates his guts doesn’t mean she gets to go gallivanting off into the bushes for however long she feels like.

He digs the toe of his shoe deep into the thick carpet of pine needles that covers the forest floor, considering his options. Thankfully, before he reaches dirt, he hears the rustle of bushes off to his left and his ex-girlfriend emerges, a clump of leaves in her hair. She looks singularly pissed off and is brushing some sort of odd looking green powder off of her face.

Masking his relief with anger, he snaps, “What the hell, Veronica?”

“Sorry.” She says curtly. “I thought maybe the path was that way, but I walked into this weird looking vine and got a face full of pollen.” She swipes at her face. “Ah, the joys of nature.”

“Did you find the path?”

“No, but there is a cabin back there. Looks like a vacation place. I thought we could do a little B & E and maybe use the phone.”

She starts walking—stalking, really—back in the direction she came from and Logan follows her, wading through brush and bitching all the way. “And who exactly are you going to call if there  _is_  a phone—your Dad? I didn’t think you wanted him to know about this little excursion to find the Fitzpatricks’ hideout.”

Veronica presses her lips together in a flat line, but doesn’t respond, so he keeps digging.

“Or,  _I know_. Maybe you could call PIZ. I feel like I shouldn’t be the only ex-boyfriend you drag along on dangerous excursions in the woods without even a fucking GPS.”

“Hey!” Veronica whirls around to face him. She’s starting to get red in the face—she's more angry than he’d thought, even. “I did NOT ask you to come. You could be back in your penthouse suite, showing the playmate of the week your goodies, for all I care.”

He mock gasps. “I have  _goodies_? Gee, why does no one tell me these things?”

“I should never have let you wiggle your way into this trip.”

“But then you’d be out here ALONE.”

“And it would be a hell of a lot quieter!”

They slog, fulminating, through the last few yards of bramble and brush. Logan dodges around a cluster of the vines that Veronica must have run into earlier, hanging in a long curtain from invisible branches overhead. They’re a weird sort of pulsating green in the slanting light of the early evening and they smell strangely like Veronica’s perfume. He almost walks closer to take a deeper sniff, but Veronica is disappearing ahead of him and, in her current mood, he wouldn’t put it past her to leave him behind.

He catches up with Veronica just as she reaches the small clearing containing the cabin—a rustic pine log structure that, thankfully, looks soundly built and well-kept. Definitely a vacation home, not a creepy run down shack. Logan hangs back, cautious, but Veronica stalks directly up to the front door; her skin is still heavily flushed and she’s walking with a strange hitch in her step. 

 _Crap. Did she hurt herself_?

Logan comes up behind his ex-girlfriend as she checks under the flowerpot by the door and then upends a few large, conveniently placed rocks, before eventually turning up a spare key.

“Are you okay?” He asks, keeping his tone as neutral as possible.

Veronica nods once sharply and opens the door. “Now, we just need to find a phone, or at least the—“

She breaks off, mouth gaping open in shock. Logan pulls up abruptly behind her and looks over her shoulder to see what stopped her in her tracks.

“Well this is…” He takes in the room. “Enchanting.”

It looks like Valentine’s Day threw up inside the small cabin. The inside is only one room, with a door at the back that presumably leads to a bathroom. It’s all knotted pine walls with a big bed, a fireplace just begging for a roaring fire and—covering every single surface—cartoonish hearts and the words “true love” emblazoned over and over.

The large area rug that covers most of the floor is a deep crimson, with a pattern of pink hearts; the words “true love” flow in fancy script up and down the pale pink curtains. “True Love” throw pillows decorate every surface. The bed is shaped like a heart, crowned by a giant heart-shaped headboard, and the quilt…dear god, the quilt. Some poor, crazed Amish lady must have gone blind stitching “true love” onto it in every possible style and font: up, down, sideways, diagonal. There must be  _thousands_  of repetitions.

“Wow,” he says, turning to Veronica in expectation of some wry quip. She just frowns and puts her messenger bag down. She walks, still with that awkward gait, over to one of the large wingback chairs by the fireplace and sits down gingerly.

Logan looks around the room again, trying to see past the Cupid’s-little-love-nest décor. “Do you see a phone?”

“No.”

“Do you want to look for one?”

She flexes her hands open and closed on her thighs. “No.”

 _Okaayy._ “Well, then looks like we’re stuck here.” He says, going for the obvious, in hopes of sparking her sarcasm.

Veronica doesn’t answer, instead squirming in the chair and looking around the room with an intense expression on her face.

Logan tries to check her out surreptitiously, without looking like he’s concerned. Her pupils are weirdly dilated and she seems even more flushed than she did outside. “You sure you’re okay, Veronica?”

She gives another squirm, then leaps up from the chair. “I’m going to take a shower!” she announces, before practically running back to the single bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

Running away, again.

Logan lets out a puff of breath and wanders over to the monstrosity of a bed, flopping down onto the quilt. His feet are killing him after all of that walking through the woods and it feels nice to just lie here for a while. He may as well enjoy the surprisingly soft mattress while he can since, dollars to donuts, he’ll be relegated to the short couch if they stay here tonight.

He should be regretting being stuck in the middle of fucking nowhere, but he can’t help think that if Veronica hadn’t come across him by chance when his Range Rover broke down by the side of the road, if he hadn’t convinced her that swinging back into town to drop him off would take too long, she would have been out here all alone, with no cell signal and no way to get back to her car.

Before this afternoon, he hadn’t seen her since right after the fight in the cafeteria. She’d shown up at his suite that evening, he’d panicked and said something irredeemably shitty, and she’d fled across the country to her FBI internship. That was almost five months ago. He'd heard about her breakup with Piz through the grapevine, but he didn’t call. She didn’t call.

Somehow, Logan had hoped that when they saw each other again, everything would be better; that Veronica’s extreme reaction last spring meant that she felt… well,  _something_  for him, at least. He'd been so fucking glad this afternoon to see her Saturn slow as she passed him, and then carefully turn around and come back. He'd thought... But she’s been nothing but prickly since the moment she pulled over to help. Even when she clearly hates his guts, he can’t seem to dig his need for her of his heart. He still…

Logan’s fingers trace over the stitching in a large cursive “L” under his left hand, following the loop around and around, the embroidery thread a pleasant stiffness against the pad of his finger. As soon as Veronica gets out of the shower, he’ll help her turn this place upside down. There has to be a phone here somewhere.

 _Actually, though..._  He raises his head off the bed, listening. The shower isn’t going and she’s been in there a little while now. His heartbeat ticks up with a sudden stab of fear.

Levering himself off of the bed, Logan crosses quietly to the bathroom door. As he approaches, he can hear muffled whimpers from inside the bathroom.  _Is she crying? What the hell?_

“Veronica?” He knocks on the door and hears another whimper. “Veronica?”

“Go away, Logan!”

He stands, frustrated, outside of the door, hand poised to knock again. “Veronica?” he asks again, softer this time. In answer, another series of whimpering cries.

_Okay, fuck this._

“Veronica!” He rattles the doorknob. It’s unlocked. “Veronica, I’m coming in!”

“Ah—ah—NO!”

Logan shoves the door open, but it stops after about a foot, smacking into Veronica’s body on the floor.

“Veronica!” He’s panicking a little now, forcing his way into the bathroom. “Veronica are you—“ He trails off, stunned, as he takes in the sight in front of him.

Veronica is splayed out awkwardly on the small bathroom floor. Her jeans are tangled down around her knees, underwear pushed to the side, and both of her hands work frantically between her legs, stroking her cunt like every masturbatory fantasy he’s ever had. The flesh under her fingers is lush and wet, a glistening shade of dark rose—just the way he remembers—and her fingers thrust in and out, pumping deep and bringing forth gushing wetness. The sight is utterly mesmerizing and Logan instantly goes hard beneath his jeans. For a split second, he thinks he’s walked out of reality and into a porno. Then he looks at her face. Veronica is bright red—not the tender flush of passion he knows so well and conjures up when he fists himself in the shower—but a deep, frustrated crimson, her features screwed up and frantic.

“Logan,” she whimpers, her hips humping up into her hands. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.

“Oh my god, baby.” He breathes. “What’s wrong? What…what are you doing?”

As he watches, her movements redouble in pace, frantic fingers fumbling over her clit, plunging in and out of her wetness. “Logan!” She wails. “It’s not working! I can’t—I can’t  _stop_. I NEED.”

“Shh, Veronica. Shh.” He crouches down next to her and reaches out to pull her hand away from her cunt. As his fingers brush across her flesh, just the barest touch, she screams a long high keen and comes hard, spilling more juices, soaking her hand and his.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He can’t help petting her, just as he would have back when they were together and her every orgasm was a cherished achievement, running his fingers very softly up and down her folds, gentling her down from the high and avoiding her tender clit. “Veronica? Are you okay now?”

She pants, nodding, and he thinks maybe she’s over whatever the hell this is, but then her body starts jerking again, hips spasming upward.

“No! Nooo. It won’t—“ She grabs his hand when he tries to pull it away and pushes his fingers and hers deep into her warmth. “—stop. It won’t stop. It just keeps coming back.”

Logan flexes his fingers inside of her with a groan. “What's happening, Veronica? Why are you…like this?”

“I d-don’t know.” Veronica strains to spread her legs as wide as her tangled jeans allow, offering him an unparalleled look at her cunt, plump with arousal, their tangled fingers disappearing deep inside of her, internal muscles clenching and fluttering around them, trying to drag them deeper still. “I think—I think…those damn vines. I shouldn’t have gone near…but they smelled like—AH! AH!” She pulls her fingers away to frantically circle her clit.

“Shh, Veronica, it’s okay,” he croons. He thinks she just came, but it doesn’t seem to have offered her any release, so it’s hard to tell. Already, she’s clenching again, tight and hungry around his fingers. The rich, heady smell of her sex is thick in the small bathroom.

“Veronica, how many times have you come?”

“I don’t…five? Six? It’s not enough.” She rubs herself against his hand, and he automatically pushes back with firm pressure. She lets out a long groan and comes again, more definitely this time. “Ah! Feels better with you. Not enough, but better.”

Logan rocks back on his heels.  _Fuck._  This is too much, too— _oh god_. He needs to pull away, needs to find something…do something to help her. He should call… Shit. No phone.

Veronica groans, tossing her head back against the pink, heart-patterned bathmat, her neck a long taut arc, lost in the sensations of whatever is happening in her body. A strange voice whispers in Logan's head:  _She’s yours. Yours to take care of._

_No!_

Veronica needs help; she needs a doctor, an exorcist—hell, a fucking botanist. What she doesn’t need is a sick fuck of an ex-boyfriend all horny and panting over her when she is basically drugged. She wants him gone from her life forever, not crouching next to her, slavering, while she is so intimately vulnerable. Logan steels his will and tries, again, to pull his hand away.

“No! D-don't go.” Veronica’s nails dig into his wrist, locking him in place. She starts to pinch her clit with a force that makes him wince, grunting with the effort, her muscles trembling, sweat collecting in the hollow of her collarbones.

 _Oh, baby._ Logan can’t help it, he leans down and stops her mouth with a kiss, swallowing her cries, frantic in his need to comfort. “Baby, god. Stop. You’ve got to stop. You can’t keep going like this. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I  _know_. But it won’t stop. This isn’t enough. I need—“ another gush of fluid over his hand. He’s sticky with her cum down to his wrist now. “I need MORE.” She quiets for a second, whimpering sounds that he can’t bear escaping her.

She sounds like she’s in  _pain_. God knows he is.

“He-help me, Logan.” She whines, body bucking upward. “Help. I NEED you.”

In her frantic writhing, her grasp loosens and he finally pulls his hand away from her warm wetness. She grunts, scrabbling along the tile to try to follow his fingers. Regain the pressure. This is  _awful_ , and he is an awful person, because his dick is pounding triple time, straining against his jeans, eager to be back in the only true home it has ever known.

She’ll hate him in the morning. Even more than she already does.

“Logan!” She arcs her body, thrusting her glistening pussy into the air, frantic for some sort of stimulation.

_Fuck._

He reaches out and curves his hand protectively around her sex. She comes almost instantly, but he knows that he’s probably bought her only seconds at the rate she’s going. He scoops Veronica up off the floor and she wriggles, kicking her jeans fully off as he carries her to the bed.

“Shh, shh, I’m going to take care of you, baby, I promise. I promise.”

He lays her out on the bed and pulls the rest of her clothes off. He runs his hands up and down her smooth skin, trying not to linger, trying to be clinical about it. It’s a lost cause. God, he fucking wants her so much and it is  _killing_ him to see her like this.

“Ah, feels good.” She curls into his touch as he runs a hand down the sweet curve of her stomach. “It feels so good when you touch me. Keep touching.”

“Does it help, Veronica?”

“Mmhm.” She nods frantically.

He strips quickly, leaving his boxers on out of some hope that he’ll be able to help her without completely crossing the line and fucking up everything between them up permanently. He lays down next to her on the bed and pulls her in toward him, skin to skin almost everywhere, surrounding her. Carefully, he tilts his throbbing erection away from her hot skin.

“Good?”

“Yeah.” She pants. “Good. Good. Thank—th-thank—”

“No, Veronica, don’t.” He keeps his hands moving over her, secretly savoring the feel of her in his arms again. He doesn’t deserve to be thanked.

She seems to quiet for a moment, and he’s just starting to be hopeful that their skin-to-skin contact might be enough to ride this out, when she starts to writhe against him, moaning.

“Oh, baby,” he whispers quietly. “Oh, Veronica.”

She wraps her legs around his thigh and starts to rub desperately against it. Her hot wet core presses against his leg, and her body brushes against his dick with every movement. He can’t help letting out a groan of his own and his fingers close around her hips, trying to help her keep an even rhythm. “S-sorry.” She’s crying as she comes, clenching her legs around his, drenching him in her juices. “I c-can’t  _stop._ ”

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. I know. It’s okay. Whatever you need is fine.”

She takes his hand and pulls it down to her cunt, moaning her need. He gets her off again in under a minute, but she never stops keening and crying. The waves of that orgasm are still spasming through her when she starts fucking into his hand some more.

Decision made, Logan pulls away suddenly, evading Veronica's grasp. He slides down the bed, spreads her legs wide.

“Fingers aren’t enough for you, baby. Let me, let me—“ He lowers his face and buries his mouth in her. Ah god, she tastes just as amazing as he remembers, writhing under him, coming almost immediately in a grand series of orgasms that pop off one by one like firecrackers on a string.

Veronica is fresh and sweet on his tongue as he inhales her, ripe and lush and almost…tingly. The sensations are driving him nuts and he buries his tongue deep inside of her, chasing that amazing feeling that fizzles through his mouth and down his throat, warming him to the core. He swirls his tongue; she’s going mad beneath him. Somewhere in the middle of her third cresting orgasm, Logan becomes dimly aware that he's desperately humping the bed, eager for the stimulation against his aching cock.  _Ah! Fuck!_  The rub of the embroidered words on the quilt through the thin material of his boxers feels both painful and amazing. He tries to stop, incredibly guilty about getting any pleasure out of this but he's devouring her, drowning in her her scent, her taste, her sounds, and he just can't. Can't.

Veronica's fingers come down to tangle in his hair, locking him in place as she rocks up into him, fucking into his mouth. He sucks on her hard, swallowing, relishing the warmth that spreads through him and pressing his cock harder into the bed. Her fingers tighten almost painfully in his hair and she comes voluptuously, her hardest and longest yet, thighs clenching around his head hard enough that he starts to lose air.

He pulls away with a last lick of his tongue and she gasps, mouth gaping open. “It’s still—it’s still not enough. Oh god, Logan, I want you inside of me. I need you inside so bad.”

He knows that if he does this she’ll never want to see him again. It’s practically rape—it  _is_  rape—when she’s like this. When she’s not herself.

Veronica makes a grab for him, snags one of his hands and weaves their fingers together, squeezing tightly in something that feels like a demand and a plea all rolled into one. He runs his free palm up and down her thigh, whispering, brokenly. “I’m so sorry. So sorry, baby.”

Veronica is grinding her ass down into the quilt, toes clenching, tears streaming down her face, clinging to his hand. He just wants this to  _stop_. Wants to fix everything for her. The need to make her feel better is like a frantic weight in him, he can feel it fluttering and stinging inside of him, following the same paths her delicious juices had when he was buried mouth deep in the heart of her. That internal voice chants,  _help her, help her, love her._ He is rock hard and more indecisive about what the right thing is to do than he has ever been in the bedroom.

“ _Please!_ ” She screams.

Logan can’t take it anymore. He strips off his boxers one handed, never releasing Veronica’s hand, and comes over her, kneeling. Her cunt is radiating heat and it’s almost killing him. Her warm thighs, slick with her cum, bracket his hips and his cock twitches painfully. At the last minute before he plunges in, he tries to lock in on her eyes, but they are rolling around, seemingly unable to fix on anything. Her face is ravaged, beet red and swollen from tears, hair sweaty and tangled on the pillow, but she is still and always the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “I love you, Veronica,” he whispers as he plunges deep inside of her.

She’s so slick and ready that he slides all the way in on the first thrust, bottoming out in one motion. Veronica lets out a choked gasp and all of the tension finally seems to flood out of her body.

“Logan,” she says, a note of wonderment in her voice. Her eyes lock in on his, an impossibly clear blue that seems to x-ray his soul. “God. Yes, Logan. Finally.” She clutches weakly at his biceps.  

Logan stills inside of her, trying desperately to regain control of his breathing. That strange tingling sensation he’d noticed earlier surrounds his cock, teasing all the way up to the base of his balls. It feels  _amazing_  and torturous and he wonders, with sudden realization, if that feeling is what has been driving Veronica. He studies her from his position, suspended on shaking arms.  _Is she…better now? Should I—?_

Veronica twines her legs around his waist and smiles dazzlingly up at him. “God, Logan, I’ve missed you so much.”

His control breaks on a sob and he starts to thrust into her. He stutters his hips, forcefully reining himself in, moving as delicately as possible inside of her.  _Softly, asshole, softly. She’s got to be sore._ With each tentative thrust, the tingling surges around his cock, she’s fisting him so tight and wet and his life will be worth nothing when he loses this again.

Veronica still seems utterly blissed out, but she picks up his rhythm, rolling her hips in a lazy motion, running her hands caressingly up and down his back. Her touch feels achingly tender and her eyes never leave his face and he only realizes that he’s starting to cry a little when she cups one gentle hand around his cheek and wipes a tear away with her thumb.

“Veronica,” he groans. She’s so hot, wet, perfect, and he loves her so much, and this is the last time he’ll ever—the last time they’ll ever—

She wraps herself around him, hoisting herself up into a tight clinching embrace and clinging like a koala on a tree, while he fucks into her more and more frantically. She buries her face in the crook of his neck and presses a soft kiss there that jolts all the way to the base of his balls. At the second gentle touch of her lips against his skin, Logan’s cock tightens and he comes so hard that he sees sparks, spilling deep inside of her, his seed mingling with her tingling warmth.

His ferocious orgasm seems to set off Veronica off into a final explosion of her own, but it’s not violent like the previous ones were. Instead, she shudders rapturously in long waves that milk him deep, a smile of pure pleasure on her face.

When they’re both finally wrung dry, he collapses bonelessly on top of her, breathing in big blows, like a bellows. With the last of his strength, Logan pulls Veronica in close to his body, rolling them once, twice, out of the giant wet spot they have created. When she settles, pressed against him, he doesn’t so much fall asleep as black out.

When Logan comes to, the light outside has gone completely and the only illumination in the cabin comes from a soft wattage lamp on the bedside table. Outside of that small pool of light, the shadows wrap long and black around them. Veronica has shifted away a bit and is lying next to him. Their only points of contact are her fingers, resting limply on his wrist. She’s awake.

He takes in a shuddering breath. “Are you...okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice is soft, impossible to read.

He rolls away from her and buries his face in a pillow. “Veronica,” he says, into its depths, “I am so, so sorry.” There is a sick, aching feeling in his gut. Any moment now, she’s going to tell him how much she hates him for taking advantage of her.

One of her fingers traces lightly across the span of his shoulders and he shivers.

“Logan,” she says quietly, “I love you.”

His heart stops. Stutters back to life. He rolls back over to study her. “You’re still sick—poisoned, whatever.”

Veronica smiles, stretches luxuriously. “No, I'm all better now.” She does look amazing, actually. Her color is back to normal and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so relaxed and…centered?

Because she was poisoned.

He looks up at the ceiling, because it’s too hard to look at her, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I am  _so_  sorry. I didn’t mean to, truly. I know it’s…inexcusable. I just couldn’t think of any other way to help you.”

“Logan, stop. I  _needed_  you. You only did what... ”

When she trails off, he risks darting a glance at her; she’s nibbling at the edge of her thumbnail, thinking it through.  

“Actually, I…I don’t think that would have worked with anyone but you. The sex.” She traces her fingers over one of the “true love”s embroidered on the quilt they have just completely ruined. “I think I would have just…” She shakes her head. “It only worked because I love you.”

There it is. Again. She said it again. He can’t help reaching out a hand to caress her cheek. “Veronica, you know I love you so much, I always have. Always will. But…”

“You don’t believe me,” she finishes, sanguinely, pressing a kiss into his palm. “It’s okay; I get it.” She pulls his arm around her shoulders and snuggles under it. “We can give it time. I know you would never…take advantage.”

“Veronica…” Deep inside of Logan, walls that he built months ago are crumbling and hope is bursting forth. He doesn’t know what he expected, they were the most flimsily constructed walls in existence. He  _wanted_  her to be able to break them down.

Veronica turns inside of his grasp and pushes herself up over him on shaky arms, her hair falling in a sweeping curtain around them, shutting out the shadows and the lurid room. “Logan.” She kisses him lightly on the lips. “When you came inside of me…” Another kiss, deeper this time, and he clings to her lips as she pulls back. “I knew then. No one but you.”

He swallows, gulping. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck, he can feel his eyes getting moist. Fuck.

She settles herself on top of him with a sigh, burrowing against him, filling a hole in his world that has been empty for nearly a year. “I’m so tired. Let’s go back to sleep, hm? In the morning, we’ll figure out how to get out of here and I’ll let you buy me breakfast at Second Street.”

He buries his face in her hair and inhales the sweaty scent of her. “Still trying to eat your way through my inheritance?”

She yawns. “You know me.”

“Yeah, I do.” It's quiet, a promise whispered into her skin. 

Veronica slides her knee further up along his hip, settling the notch of her sex against his softened cock, nestling them together, warm and sticky and achingly comforting. He brings up one hand and lets it settle on the small of her back as she drifts off. His other hand slides over the silky skin of her hip, her ass. She rouses herself enough to press one light kiss into his chest, right over his heart. “Fought this so long…so stupid. Ev’rythin’s better when you’re here.”

Logan closes his eyes against the burn prickling through his sinuses. Feels those insubstantial walls crumble into rubble.

True love, indeed.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
